TGICryDay 09/08: Chad Henne, Killers of the Flower Moon, and Sex Education
Proud tears, furious tears, inspired tears, and tears of a woman on strike.
Happy Friday Everyone!
While a few things did their damage on my ducts this week, the Chiefs’ loss last night was not one of them. Our #2 and #3 players weren’t suited up, Mahomes still looked superhuman, and our ultimate fate was decided by 3 dropped passes to a pretty wide-open fella. I’d say we’ve got some scuffs we can rub on with our thumbs rather than actual cracks in the foundation.
No one asked for my sports opinion, of course. But as someone who has merch from the reigning Super Bowl champs in a consistent wardrobe rotation, it is my God-given right to offer it.
I do not like the Tomahawk Chop. I feel icky about the banging of a big drum before games. I hope we reckon with this! But if we substitute “banging the big problematic drum” with “being given an honor and recognition by the team and the city” - I am glad that happened to Chad Henne yesterday.
Thinking about everything Chad Henne has done and the role that he has played in our city, knowingly, willingly, does make me tear up. For the past four years, the man lived a life which basically amounts to “if you are called upon to do your job, something is very very wrong.” His uniform might as well have had “Oh Fuck, Not Patrick Mahomes” on the back instead of his name. And the few times he ran onto the field, it was to temporarily lead a team whose mental state could only be described as petrified professionalism in front of a fan base thinking “I believe miracles can happen, but ours is being looked at by a trainer right now.” Chad Henne wasn’t just asked to “not mess this up.” He came in at critical moments where we needed him to… win us the football game. The man had to keep us steadily on the path to a Super Bowl we were all praying to God he wouldn’t play a snap of. And he did. Twice. I love Chad Henne. I’m glad Kansas City realized what we asked of him and what he delivered. Hennething is possible <3
Besides the magic of sports and the overwhelming power of team, here is what else made me cry this week:
Warning: Some of these have spoilers for stuff so read slowly + with caution and I’ll give you spaces to skip.
Being Frustrated About The WGA + SAG-AFTRA Strike
So much has been said. And I’m kind of all talked out about it right now, to be honest. But in the spirit of TGICryDay, I am announcing here that I did, in fact, cry about it this week.
Killers of the Flower Moon by David Gann
I did not cry while reading the book itself, but I took a little time to myself afterwards and did shed a few.
SPOILERS AHEAD, IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK AND WANT TO, SKIP TO AFTER THE PICTURE
The story itself is incredibly harrowing, obviously. Reckoning with and reflecting on the callousness and cruelty of our government and citizenry toward native people is, I believe, our responsibility as white Americans. But what really got me, personally, was the systemic abuse, violence, and murder inflicted by white people in interracial marriages. The scope and scale of greed and dehumanization masquerading as love and family struck me in a way that continues to reverberate in my marrow almost a week after finishing the book.
For my husband and I (for new readers, my spouse is an immigrant from Colombia!) marriage was also heavily legal and logistical. Of course the foundation was deep, enduring love. But our entrance into the union of marriage was driven by and structured around legal requirements and definitions. Our timing was coordinated with his immigration status needs and my healthcare requirements. I felt a joyful jolt of power and privilege: his relationship to me could help him stay in the country where his dreams were. My love could be of active service to his goals. But you know what Uncle Ben says about great power… I took his reliance on me seriously! I looked up, many times, what would happen to him and his immigration status if I died. If he would still be eligible for a marriage-based green card. If I could make him wretchedly worse off than just a widow. If my love could only serve him in a beating heart.
Which is why I was so viscerally devastated by the white people in Killers of the Flower Moon who asked similar legal questions and found similar answers in pursuit of homicidal self-enrichment. It suffocated me to think of people, a century ago, driving distance from my hometown, researching laws around marital assets and inheritance, not to comfort themselves about their spouse’s security should something happen to them, but to ensure their own wealth after their partner’s premeditated murder. Betraying, in the most morbid and despicable way, the trust inherently given to the more legally powerful partner.
Many people have many more personal and painful reasons to angry cry about Killers of the Flower Moon. But that is mine.
This Scene in Sex Education
If you are like “GIF SPOILERS ARE SPOILERS” and have not seen Sex Education, then this is the end of the newsletter for you and I love you and have a great weekend!!
I started it last night (spouse is out of town) and I am completely taken with it and will, I’m sure, cry about it many more times and then write about it in a lot of detail.
In the meantime, if you want to talk more about this moment please message me on IG (@taykayphillips) but the scene/episode was so perfect it basically reaffirmed my faith in the power of television and I will be thinking about it for probably the rest of my life.
What made you cry this week? Or would have made you cry if you were a crier?
Love you all! Have a great weekend.
TKP